


Be Still

by blackrabbit42



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrabbit42/pseuds/blackrabbit42
Summary: A timestamp to The Persistence of Memory scribbled for Riyku.“It’s okay if this is too weird,” Jensen says, still hiding behind his arm. “But could I… could I draw you?”





	Be Still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riyku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riyku/gifts).



I’ve said it before. I’m not made of iron. I’m more or less made of loneliness these days, in a way I wasn’t before. And the thing is, I _know_ Jensen loves me. Or would, if he could remember me.

 

We’re both consenting adults. Well, he is, and I’m pretty sure I am. We’re both allowed to have one night stands. It’s just that it’s not one night. This is more like the sixth night. And don’t think I don’t feel guilty as hell. And don’t think that I don’t know it’s going to hurt worse than anything when I see him tomorrow and his eyes slide right over me without a ghost of recognition.

 

But damn. His hands don’t act like they’ve forgotten me. His mouth remembers me perfectly. At least, it feels that way. We’re both kind of inexperienced with the whole sex thing, but we’re not inexperienced with each other. He slides up hard against my hip and my hands find exactly the right spot on his lower back to pull him closer.

 

“I’ve never…” he whispers.

 

“It’s okay. You’re my first too.”  I won’t lie to Jensen, but there are some things it’s just easier not to tell him. For now. “We don’t have to do anything. If you don’t want.”

 

“I want to,” he says “I just don’t know what to do.”

 

My dick is telling me that the upside for Jensen is that he gets to be a virgin over and over again if we do it. My heart is telling me that it’s not fair for him to not remember his first time. _Our_ first time. My heart is telling me that I don’t want him to forget our first time.

 

“Hey,” I say, smoothing my hand down over his chest, down the pale hollow between his hipbones. I let the back of my hand gently stoke the baby soft skin of his hard on. “Maybe we’re taking this too fast.” 

 

Jensen throws his arm over his face, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow. I’ve seen him do this before, and even if he doesn’t know it, it’s my cue to back off. Things are too much.

 

“I can just stay here, we can talk all night. I’d love that.”  I don’t say _I love you._ Those words claw at the back of my throat, wanting so bad to come out.

 

“It’s okay if this is too weird,” Jensen says, still hiding behind his arm. “But could I… could I draw you?”

 

He’s drawn me before, once. Just my eyes. And they stayed, not like photographs of me that disappear moments after I’m out of sight and lost to memory. He’s never yet made the connection between the eyes he drew, and the ones looking at him right now. But this feels different. That last time was lightning fast, a bolt of inspiration. Now Jensen props himself up on his forearm and traces a finger down my side. I know what he’s doing, imagining the contour lines that would describe my form. The idea has lit him up, and although he won’t meet my eyes, I know exactly what he’s feeling.

 

There’s _something_ here. Something that connects us. I feel it thrumming between us like a slow, steady heartbeat, right through to my bones. I spend so much time focusing on the fact that Jensen is the only person who has ever remembered me, that I sometimes forget that I’m the only person he’s ever felt connected to in this way. That as lonely as my life is, I can at least remember the time we had together, and he doesn’t even have that.

 

“Yeah, I’d love that,” I say. “What should I do?  Do you want me to—?”

 

“No,” he says, stopping me from grabbing my clothes with a soft touch of his hand. “Just… be still.”

 

He, however, throws on a pair of soft grey flannel pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. He looks so, so soft, wisps of his tawny hair tousled by my fingers only moments ago. I want to reach over and pull him back down to me and pretend for just a few hours that I never, never have to let him go. Instead, I let him hold and keep me in his own way, with lines on the page.

 

Jensen works without talking to me, the only sound the scrape of his pencils across the paper. The long lines sound like his hands feel on my body. It calms my nerves just to know that he is there for as long as we can stay awake.

 

I never get to spend this long this close to someone, and with anyone else, it would be giving me anxiety, because literally anyone else would be a stranger. But Jensen is safe, and this is the only place I’ve ever had that feels like home. I let my eyes fall closed, just for a few moments, I tell myself.

 

And then, the morning sun is shining through Jensen’s windows, and I realize I’ve fucked up and fallen asleep. I jerk awake in full blown panic because the last thing I want to do is scare Jensen, who will have forgotten me while he was asleep. He’s curled up against my chest, and I can feel his breath, soft and warm. Thankfully, no arms or legs to untangle. If I’m careful I can slip away without waking him. I kiss the top of his head as lightly as I possibly can and whisper, “I’m sorry, Jensen,” as I carefully pull away.

 

His sketchpad catches my eye as I’m hunting around for my clothes and I can’t resist a peek.

 

He must have been up all night. Page after page of sketches that I’d say were breathtaking if it wasn’t weird to say that about drawings of yourself. Jensen is amazing; he only sees the beautiful parts of me. I’m just happy that he sees anything at all.

 

I set it down gently on his nightstand and force myself to walk away.

 

“Hey.” 

I turn, and Jensen is looking at me. His eyes aren’t frightened, or uncertain. They’re the same eyes that saw the beautiful parts of me last night. Something really unsafe is happening to my heart, because I’ve seen this with him once before. I’m so scared I’m wrong, I can’t say a word.

 

“Jared,” he says, “where are you going?”

 

Nowhere. For as long as this lasts, I’m not going _anywhere._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
